


Shade

by GloriousGoblinQueen



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousGoblinQueen/pseuds/GloriousGoblinQueen
Summary: Bruce Wayne hosts a party at his estate to celebrate the completion of a new railway line. While mingling with the guests, he encounters a man who introduces himself simply as "Clark". Clark, however, is not all he appears to be.





	Shade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).

Bruce finally stepped away from his conversation with two investors to walk among the other guests. Being a good host wasn’t just about providing a venue, food and entertainment; he should also make sure his guests were enjoying what was provided.

“Enjoying the food, I hope. It’s one of my mother’s tried and true recipes.”

“Glad the entertainment meets your approval! It wasn’t easy getting her to come on such short notice, but her voice is more than worth the hassle.”

Schmoozing with guests wasn’t exactly his idea of fun, but he knew how to play this game well. Most of the people there were investors with their plus-ones if they chose to bring one. Some had already put their money in and were celebrating the returns they would get, others had heard of the new railway’s success and wanted to seek out whoever was responsible. Either way, Bruce knew they were all looking at him with dollar signs in their eyes. If he wanted to stay on top, he had to hook them in and keep them in, and that meant socializing and stroking egos.

When Bruce finished chatting with the last of his guests and watched them wander away, he let himself relax. Times like this, he wished that “Bruce Wayne the Socialite” came as easily to him as “Bruce Wayne the Business Tycoon”. Then again, if the various snatches of gossip he’d heard throughout the night were anything to go by, maybe it was a good thing his list of social engagements was kept small. The last thing he needed was for his reputation as an astute businessman to be eclipsed by some indiscretion witnessed at an insignificant party.

No sooner had Bruce turned with the intention of heading for the garden out back than he noticed a man standing off near the back of the room. Little seemed to stand out about this man; he wore a dark, practical suit like most of the other party-goers, and he stood with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink, with his attention mainly on the gorgeous singer Bruce had hired for the evening. Two things did catch Bruce’s attention, however: the stranger wore a tie in startlingly sky-blue instead of one of the geometric patterns on trend lately, and Bruce was certain the man had been staring at him moments before. He pegged the guy for neophyte, probably someone relatively new to his wealth, and figured no harm would come from getting to know him better.

Bruce strode over to the man, and had to give him credit for not jumping when he started talking out of the blue. “Hope you’re liking the entertainment this evening,” he said, holding out his hand for a shake.

He absolutely did not expect to be greeted by two of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. His own had been compared to sapphires countless times, but these were something else entirely. Belatedly, he realized they were the same hue as the man’s tie but, unlike the tie, appeared to softly glow. The stranger took his hand, and all intention of taking the lead and introducing himself first fled Bruce’s mind. He felt a shock run through him from where their hands were joined all the way up his arm. It settled square in his chest, rendering him incapable of coherent thought or speech. Fortunately, the man picked up on Bruce’s sudden lack of social skills and took pity on him.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine, thank you. The name’s Clark, by the way,” he said warmly. “Very pleased to meet you. You’re Bruce Wayne, right?”

With some effort on his part, Bruce came back to himself. “Of course,” he said. “The one and only.”

From there, the two engaged in small talk ranging from the singer’s superb vocal range to some of the other civic projects Bruce was involved in. Whenever asked about his own life or business, Clark simply gave a vague answer and immediately turned the conversation back towards Bruce. Bruce couldn’t find it in him to mind, however. Listening to Clark talk about even the most pedestrian subjects, like what kinds of flowers he’d seen in the city, was soothing in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long while.

Then came a lull in the conversation, albeit a peaceful one. Bruce wracked his brain for something to discuss, not wanting to dent his reputation as a host. Just as he got ready to say something, a couple of partygoers came over trying to pull him into their conversation. Bruce made to apologize, but Clark waved it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Clark said. “We’ll be seeing more of each other soon enough.

By the time the festivities had wound down and people were leaving, Bruce went searching for Clark, but the man was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Leaving the cleanup to his staff, Bruce retired to his room for the night. It was a little after one in the morning, and were he someone’s employee, he’d be in serious trouble in a few hours. That was one of the many perks of being your own boss: you got to decide your work hours. Unless some pressing matter came up at the office, he didn’t need to show up at all tomorrow. Knowing he could sleep in if he so chose had him drifting off soon after his head hit the pillow.

  
  


_Bruce was downstairs again. At first, he thought the party was still going, but he realized that he and Clark were the only ones present._

_“Everyone must have left,” Bruce thought out loud. “You know, I looked for you, but I didn’t see you anywhere. I thought you’d left with everyone else.” He turned to face Clark and was taken aback._

_Clark stood alarmingly close to him, and Bruce had an even better view of his eyes. They glowed even more powerfully than before, as though lit from within. Bruce found himself unnerved by such an inhuman feature, but he couldn’t move away. Rather, he felt as if a force held him to Clark, and kept him pinned under the man’s gaze._

_“I told you we’d be seeing more of each other,” Clark said. “But really, I’d prefer to see much more of you.”_

_Bruce blinked, and suddenly found himself in his room on his bed, this time with Clark on top of him. One of the bay windows was opened, letting in a warm summer breeze that ruffled Clark’s hair. Bruce put up a token effort to get away from him, but a strange reluctance settled deep within him and kept him from struggling more seriously. Even if he had wanted to, Clark had his wrists pinned to the bed with an unnatural strength that bordered on bruising._

_Clark pressed himself close, aligning their chests and hips, and leaned in. Bruce’s heart pounded in his throat, and he was certain Clark was about to kiss him. At the last moment, Clark detoured and whispered in his ear._

_“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. I was expecting more of a challenge, from what I observed about you.” He did brush his lips against the corner of Bruce’s jaw. “But I appreciate your cooperation. It’ll make things much easier in the long run.”_

  
  


Bruce startled awake, fists gripping his sheets. Whatever he’d dreamed was already fleeing his mind, leaving behind incoherent bits and pieces. He was hot all over, especially along the front of his body. Thinking it was just the summer heat getting to him, he got up to open the window, only to find it was already opened.

_Maybe Alfred or one of the maids came in earlier,_ he thought. He didn’t entirely believe that, but what else could it have been?

He noticed the first rays of sunlight coming over the horizon, radiating outward like the shine off of a gemstone. He checked the clock on his night table and, sure enough, it was nearly six in the morning. He remembered something about wanting to sleep in today. Looking at his bed now, with remnants of his dream still clinging to him, it didn’t seem like such a good idea now. Maybe he would go in to work today instead.

* * *

Breakfast was an awkward affair. The strangeness of his dream settled over Bruce like a fog, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. He could hardly tell what he ate, so focused he was on trying to decipher what had gone on between him and Clark last night. Worse, starting his day so early on top of not getting much sleep had put him in a poor mood, causing the cook and maid to avoid him. Even Alfred, long-accustomed to Bruce’s mood swings, knew to keep his distance that morning. The hot shower he took after didn’t do much to improve his mood, either. When Alfred finally saw him off to work, Bruce could see the worry in his eyes, but waved him off. There was nothing his old friend could do about the matter, as far as Bruce could see, so it would be pointless to worry him with details.

Bruce normally got some pleasure out of the ride to his office (though he’d thoroughly deny such a thing if asked). He lived in a picturesque area on the outskirts of the city, just under an hour from his workplace, meaning he only had to deal with the hustle and bustle of city life when he actually visited his office. The hour-long ride gave him the opportunity to watch people as they went about their days, as well as watch the quiet suburbs morph into the busy, crowded city. Most people didn’t give much thought to their morning commute, unless to figure how to best avoid traffic, and Bruce was glad his position afforded him such luxury. That day, however, he couldn’t enjoy it as he sat in his usual spot in the back, a victim of his thoughts. He still had yet to recall his dream in any meaningful way, but the feelings of anxiety and discomfort it caused were very real. Even stranger, he had the distinct feeling the dream involved Clark, though he couldn’t say how. Speaking of Clark, the fact that he’d said they’d be seeing more of each other stayed with Bruce. At the time, it had seemed innocuous, one of those casual assurances people made when they ran in the same social circles. Now, he wasn’t so sure. In fact, Bruce thought it rather bold of Clark to take such an interest in him so soon upon meeting. Sure, the other investors and businessmen he’d spoken with were enthusiastic about his success and wanted in on it, but that was all obviously about business. Clark, however, seemed to have more intimate motivations.

Before he knew it, the car was pulling into its usual spot in front of the building. The driver announced their arrival and Bruce distractedly thanked him before getting out. He pulled out his keys to the building on the way to the entrance, fully prepared to have to let himself in.

“Good morning, Mr Wayne,” came a voice. “Pleasure to see you today!”

Bruce looked up in shock at the doorman. The man wore a mostly plain, neatly pressed blue uniform accented with gold buttons down the jacket. Bruce’s overtaxed mind struggled to remember the man’s name, but nothing came to him. Instead, he replied with a lame “Same to you” and a nod of his head before scooting awkwardly through the door the man was holding for him.

  
  


Upstairs in the relative comfort of his office, Bruce felt a little of the fog from earlier lift. In a different environment, he could distance himself from the events of last night and think on them more clearly. Before devoting too much thought to them, he made himself a cup of coffee from the machine he recently imported from France, and felt himself truly begin to relax for the first time since waking up with the first sip.

He sat back in his chair and gave himself over to his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Clark and his dreams were somehow related. By this point, he could recall a few more details of his dreams: a shadowy stranger cornering him somewhere, then pinning him to his bed, looming over him with the threat of…something. The mere implication of what could come next made him distinctly uncomfortable.

And what about Clark? That’s where his focus should really be, on the stranger at last night’s party who spoke to him so _unlike_ a stranger in such a short amount of time. Who was that man, and why had he taken such a keen interest in Bruce in the first place? Clark hadn’t said much about himself, and what little he revealed was vague and gave nothing away about what exactly he did for a living. What Bruce should have done was interrogate the man, find out how he’d gotten he’d gotten an invitation (if he’d gotten one at all) when he so clearly didn’t belong there, and the idea had crossed Bruce’s mind briefly. It had left almost as quickly, like it had been pushed out, and Bruce had felt compelled to stay talking with Clark despite the strangeness of it.

Bruce’s grip tightened on his coffee mug. His unease from earlier was coming back, and that was the last thing he wanted. He’d come into work for a reason; it wouldn’t do to bring this mess with him. To take his mind off of it, he decided to get some work done. He picked up the first folder from his desk he laid eyes on and rifled through it for the financial records he wanted to look over. Although he trusted the person he’d put in charge of financial operations to keep everything running smoothly and to report any anomalies to him, he still made sure to periodically go over some of the records himself to stay in the loop. Bruce had heard too many horror stories of business owners who never checked in on any part of their operations, opting to blindly trust whoever they had hired, and ended up being ruined by such oversight.

Hours passed with him so engrossed in his work, and he didn’t come up for a break until a secretary interrupted him.

“Mr Wayne, there’s someone here to see you,” she said. “He says his name is ‘Clark’? He didn’t mention a last name.”

Bruce’s insides went cold at hearing that name. He checked the clock on the wall and noticed it was close to noon, giving him an idea. Calmly, he cleaned up his work and got up from his desk, telling the secretary he’d be taking his break now and that “Mr. Clark” would have to come back later. He wasted no time squeezing past her through the doorway, eager to get as far away from Clark as possible.

He had originally intended to just stay at work all day, but knowing Clark was in the building had him reconsidering that. Heading out to the nearby park sounded like a good idea, all he needed was to get out of the building without being seen. On some level, he knew he was absolutely overreacting to the nebulous threat Clark posed to him, but he also had the sense that it was absolutely necessary to stay away from him.

On the way downstairs towards the back exit, he thought he caught glimpses of Clark here and there. But it had to be in his imagination, because as soon as he would turn around to get a better look, there would be no sign of the man anywhere. Under any other circumstances, Bruce would be embarrassed to let his paranoia run so rampant, but all he could feel was relief when he finally made it outside. The park wasn’t far from his building, so walking there wouldn’t be trouble. Besides, he hoped the fresh air and chance to move around would clear his head, at least a little bit.

  
  


After just a few minutes walking, Bruce could see the lovely foliage of the park in the distance. He’s gone there before to ease his mind, and now he needed it more than ever. The grass was lush that time of year, and all the flowers were in bloom and the trees were full and green. In another few minutes he would be walking through the gate, and he could feel himself relaxing again already. The sunny sky around him seemed to flicker every so often, but he chalked that up to clouds passing by and sporadically blocking out the sun.

The gentle perfume of all the flowers in bloom was the first thing that hit Bruce once he was in the park. Unlike the stuff that came in a bottle, this didn’t give him a headache. Now that Clark’s presence wasn’t hanging over him, he slowed his pace to take in the sights. There wasn’t anything there he hadn’t seen before, maybe a few new species of flower, but everything else was a familiar sight. Bruce wasn’t necessarily here for a stroll, however. He intended on going to the garden area and maybe staying there instead of going back to work.

He was a few feet away from the entrance to the garden when something flashed in the corner of his eye. Bruce turned to follow it, and his insides went ice cold again. Clark had followed him to the park. How he got so close to Bruce without being seen, Bruce had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Clark crossed the much too small distance between them, and Bruce felt pinned beneath his gaze. The closer Clark got, the darker the sky became, as though in anticipation of a storm. When Clark got close enough to touch him, everything went black.

* * *

The first thing Bruce became aware of was that he was laying on something soft. He thought he might have still been in bed, and went to stretch. That’s when he became aware of the second thing: restraints held his legs down and his wrists above his head. The cuffs around his wrists was secured to what could have been a headboard further up.

He opened his eyes in alarm, and stared up into the black empty sky. The inky void went on forever, no stars or anything to separate it from the equally black void around him and the bed.

Bruce could scarcely open his mouth to yell before something dark and spindly shot out from some unseen corner and wrapped itself around the lower half of his face. He kept struggling against his restraints, even though he had a suspicion it wouldn’t do any good. The thing wrapped around his mouth pulsed weakly with a rhythm not entirely unlike a heartbeat, and though it had definite weight and form, it seemed to bleed out from the rest of the surrounding darkness.

He snapped his head to the side when he saw movement, and watched Clark step out from the shadow. Clark’s eyes didn’t merely glow this time, they appeared to be shining blue lights set into his face. As he got closer to the bed, Bruce could feel more strange tentacles crawl over his skin, shimmying up under his clothes and wrapping themselves all over him. It should have felt like a violation, and part of him knew he should be far more terrified by whatever the hell was currently going on.

Looking into Clark’s “eyes”, however, pushed out everything but the anticipation.

Bruce tried to maintain as much dignity as he could by turning away from Clark when Clark cupped his cheek. The protest felt hollow, in the scheme of things. It was difficult to fight with all those _limbs_ writhing around against him, creeping across his thighs and chest and belly and other places he tried hard not to think about.

Just as Clark raked a hand down his side, a particularly deviant one of those creeping things sneaked past his balls and insinuated itself inside of him. Bruce arched up off the bed, eyes rolling back as the tentacle inside him pressed up against seemingly every sensitive spot it could find.

When Bruce finally calmed, Clark made some gesture with his hand and the tentacle around Bruce’s face removed itself and retreated. _He must think I won’t scream_, Bruce thought. _That, or there’s no point in screaming._ Judging by the lack of, well, anything but the two of them and the bed, he figured it was the latter.

He carefully watched as Clark climbed over him. Once Clark was settled in position, Bruce asked him a simple question.

“Why me?” It was neither pleading nor angry, just curious and more than a little wary.

Instead of responding with words, Clark firmly gripped his chin and smiled at him.

Bruce wondered if and how Clark would put all those teeth to use.


End file.
